


aperture

by jjokkiri



Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Flirting, Byungchan Is Extremely Rich, He Is Also A Broke University Student, M/M, Mentioned Han Seungwoo/Kang Seungsik, Not Only Is Sejun Bloody Stupid, Pining, Pre-Relationship, minor mention of blood/injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Sejun drops his guard and Byungchan’s five-thousand-dollar camera along with it. He’s ready to drop to his knees begging for his life, but Byungchan doesn’t want his life.
Relationships: Choi Byungchan/Im Sejun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90
Collections: VICFEST®—round two!





	aperture

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #472** —Sejun accidentally breaks Byungchan's (very expensive) camera. He swears he'll repay it with his life... but all Byungchan wants is a little kiss. Just one little kiss.

_“What?”_ Sejun all but shrieks.

He can feel his hands trembling. The shattered glass between his fingers suddenly feels so much heavier and Sejun feels lightheaded. His vision seems to blur and he feels like everything is going to slip between his fingers. He feels like the solid pieces will melt in his hands and slide through the cracks between his fingers. He doesn’t think he can survive this.

He thinks he needs to immediately fade away into the void. He thinks the world doesn’t even need to know that Lim Sejun ever lived. He’s okay with it if he just disappears. At the speed of light, he must vanish. He’s _okay_ with it if his name never goes on the _Guinness World Records_ list for having the thickest thigh-to-ass ratio in the world. He’s okay with that.

Oh, but he _needs_ to survive _this_. He _needs_ to pay Byungchan back.

He can’t just break his friend’s camera and just— _just_ —vanish off the face of the planet. He can’t just disappear without a word and pretend nothing happened.

As much as he would like to, he can’t.

He can’t pretend because the evidence sits between his fingers and the guilt sits heavily in his chest. The shattered pieces of glass, in his hands, is cold, hard evidence that he is the guilty party. He doesn’t have an excuse to get himself out of his mess. He doesn’t think he could ever think of a proper excuse.

Forget his broke university student status, forget the fact that he barely has enough money in his bank account to cover next week’s sleuth of instant _ramyeon_ (assuming his boss doesn’t quickly hand over his next paycheck), Sejun _needs_ to pay Byungchan back for his broken camera.

He is but a university student, wading in the depths of a void called _debt_.

The panic sets deeply into his bones and it feels cold.

Weakly, he says, “What did you say?”

Byungchan, who is leaning against the counter behind Sejun with a half-empty cup of coffee in his hands, is peering at him. He looks a little too calm for Sejun’s liking. Byungchan isn’t usually this calm. Byungchan being calm feels like an ill omen. Sejun feels like he might die.

And if Byungchan decides that the only way Sejun can pay him back for his broken camera is with his life? Sejun thinks he can handle that. He’ll ask for some time to write in his will that it was his fault that he died and that his family shouldn’t press murder charges against Byungchan for the murder of their only son. He’ll clarify that it was his choice because it was his fault. It would be fine. It would all be fine.

“I said _‘oh no, that camera cost me $5,000,’_ ” Byungchan repeats. He sounds like he _isn’t_ stating a value that is multiple times greater than what is in Sejun’s savings account. He doesn’t sound angry and that’s what is most bone-chilling.

Sejun balks.

“Five…” he says, brilliantly. Byungchan nods.

He can’t even get the suffix out without feeling a surge of bile rise in his throat. He doesn’t try.

As Sejun reels, simmering in the mental math of _how much_ five thousand dollars is, Byungchan places the coffee cup down on the counter and moves around the island to approach Sejun.

In a panic, Sejun stills as Byungchan moves closer to him. His mind screams at him to beg for mercy because there’s nothing else he knows how to do. He didn’t come to Byungchan’s apartment to break something. He came to Byungchan’s apartment to borrow his camera for a project! He didn’t mean to let it slip from his buttery fingers! He didn’t mean to break it! _He’s too young to die!_

“Spare me, Byungchan-ah,” Sejun whimpers. He can’t meet Byungchan’s eyes.

The taller boy crouches down on the floor beside him.

Sejun looks away, stiff and unwilling to look at Byungchan. He doesn’t know how he would deal with the rage in Byungchan’s eyes. For as long as they’ve known one another, Byungchan has been nothing but kind. And now— _now_ —Sejun is single-handedly ruining Byungchan’s streak as a sweet, kind boy.

“What are you talking about, hyung?” Byungchan asks. He sounds genuinely confused.

 _What?_ Sejun thinks.

“What?” he asks.

He looks up from his stilled state of terror and meets Byungchan’s eyes.

The younger man looks confused. His eyes are wide in confusion and he genuinely looks like he doesn’t know what Sejun is talking about.

Sejun’s confusion is a spark of confusion that overtakes him. It surges from inside of his stomach and his eyebrows furrow.

He blabbers, “What do you mean _‘what’_? You were about to kill me. You were coming over here to take my life like some kind of psycho grim reaper. I wasn’t supposed to survive. You’re not supposed to be sitting there staring at me like _you’re_ the one who did something wrong?”

Byungchan frowns. He _does_ look like the one who did something wrong. His eyes are wide and he looks like a wounded puppy. Sejun feels an intense urge to wrap his arms around Byungchan in a tight hug and assure him that everything is okay.

The urge is _almost_ stronger than his fear for his life.

 _Almost._ It isn’t, so he sits still.

And everything _isn’t_ okay.

The broken camera pieces are still in Sejun’s hands, plastic pieces scattered somewhere between the broken glass, and they haven’t turned back time.

Sejun is still at fault and there is nothing he can do about it.

_Except, pay Byungchan back._

“Hyung,” Byungchan says, “why would I kill you?”

What. _What?_

“Why _wouldn’t_ you?” Sejun sounds so shocked that one would think he _wanted_ to die at Byungchan’s hands. He _doesn’t_ , but he certainly thinks it would be justified if Byungchan wanted to kill him. He doesn’t think it’s reasonable that Byungchan is the one who sounds confused. “I—I broke your camera? I broke your super expensive camera?”

Byungchan’s frown deepens. His eyebrows furrow.

Then, he laughs, the sound escaping his lips as more air than it is sound.

He gives Sejun an incredulous look as if the idea of murder was completely out of the question from the beginning. Quite frankly, Sejun doesn’t understand.

He blinks rapidly at Byungchan.

“Why?” he says, terribly nervous. He swallows, hard. “Why are you laughing? What’s so funny? Are you fucking with me?”

Byungchan remains kneeling next to Sejun and crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head. He runs his fingers through his hair, visibly furrowing his brows in thought.

Sejun avoids looking at the way that Byungchan’s forearm flexes with the movement. _This isn’t the time to appreciate Byungchan’s less-than-lanky arms._

“Fucking with you? No,” he says, “what? Does the camera not look like it costs $5,000?”

Sejun makes an incoherent sound in the back of his throat. He stammers, “I don’t know? I don’t know what cameras cost, what the heck? I have no reference?”

Byungchan chuckles. Sejun has _no_ idea why he’s laughing.

Sejun doesn’t think this is very funny. Sejun is terrified for his life.

“Byungchan-ah,” Sejun says, “you’re making me nervous.”

Byungchan smiles. He looks at Sejun for a long, quiet moment and shrugs.

“Me? I wish I could,” he says.

Sejun stares at him. _What?_

 _“What?” What does that mean?_ What _does that_ mean _?_

Byungchan laughs.

Then, wordlessly, he shrugs before he gets up from his kneeling position next to Sejun. He brushes off his sweatpants as he stands up and turns to walk back to where he left his coffee cup on the counter.

He picks the cup back up and takes a sip.

He says, “Don’t worry about it, hyung. I’m not mad at you. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to break it and I won’t hold it against you.”

“Byungchan, this isn’t five dollars,” Sejun argues, “this is $5,000! You’re just going to let it go?”

Byungchan turns to look at him over his shoulder. He taps his fingers gently against the side of the ceramic mug and he purses his lips.

“Hyung,” he says, “if you say it like that, I’m going to think that you _want_ me to make you pay it back.” His eyes narrow, “and I don’t think you can afford that.”

Sejun flinches. He looks down shamefully.

“I—I _can’t_ ,” he admits. He feels embarrassed. “I can’t afford it in cash! But I can do something to make it up for you! I’ll do anything. I’ll even give my life for it!”

Byungchan laughs. He puts the cup back down on the counter and turns to face Sejun fully. He leans back against the counter and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Your life isn’t worth $5,000, hyung.”

Sejun frowns.

“Ouch?”

Byungchan rolls his eyes. He clarifies, “It’s worth more than that.”

Oh, okay. That’s fine.

Sejun blinks. “So, you won’t take my life?”

Byungchan snorts. “No.”

He looks Sejun up and down, lips pursed in thought. Sejun sits there, unsure of what to do.

Byungchan looks so deep in his thoughts that Sejun feels half-terrified. He stares back at Byungchan and his brain runs through a thousand thoughts per second— _what would Byungchan want from him? Would it be something he can’t manage? If it was, could he take Byungchan in a fight? What could be worth $5,000 that Byungchan would want if not his life?_

He throws his caution to the wind and dares to ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Byungchan’s lips curve into a small smile. There is something unreadable in the way his lips curve at the corners of his mouth. There is a glint in his eyes. Sejun, as scared as he is of his friend, can’t look away from Byungchan.

“You said you would do _anything_ to make up for it?” The tone of Byungchan’s voice drops just slightly, just enough to sound suggestive. It’s just enough to make it sound ominous.

Dread suddenly fills Sejun’s veins.

There’s something in Byungchan’s voice that commands fear—or maybe it’s just Sejun being terrified of everything. He doesn’t know what to expect, but the feeling that fills his body isn’t any less unpleasant than the feeling of dread that struck him when the camera smashed to pieces in his hands.

He stammers, “Y-yes!”

Byungchan narrows his eyes at him.

He shifts his weight onto his other leg and hums.

He says, “I’m not sure that you sound certain, hyung.”

Sejun shakes his head. “I’m sure!” He waves his hands around in a panic, forgetting that he’s holding glass. He doesn’t feel the sharp pain of the glass pressing into the palm of his hand when he recklessly moves his hand. “I’m so sure! Just tell me what you want, I’ll do it!”

Byungchan’s eyes immediately dart away from Sejun’s face and he’s suddenly looking at Sejun’s hand.

The younger man frowns.

He pushes himself off the counter and rushes to where Sejun is helplessly staring at him from the ground. He crouches down next to Sejun and his long fingers clasp around Sejun’s wrist.

Byungchan sighs.

He sounds disappointed.

More disappointed than he was when his very expensive camera broke.

Sejun doesn’t understand.

“You’re bleeding,” he says. “You shouldn’t have been waving the glass around like that, you idiot.”

He tugs Sejun gently.

“Drop it and come,” he says. “I’ll get you a bandaid. I’ll clean up the mess later.”

Sejun helplessly follows him.

* * *

“Hold on,” Hanse raises his hand to stop Sejun from speaking. He takes a long sip of his lemonade, eyebrows furrowed as he lets the information sink in. “He just let you go?”

They are sitting in a cafe just a couple blocks away from campus in a secluded corner, away from the excitable teenagers in the centre of the establishment. The drink sitting in front of Sejun was paid for by Hanse, who took pity on his friend’s wallet and misfortunes. He promised he would buy him a drink if he promised he would tell him _all_ about what happened at Byungchan’s apartment.

It wasn’t surprising, Hanse always wanted to hear about Sejun’s misfortunes. As soon as he heard that Sejun’s hand was injured from breaking Byungchan’s camera, he wanted to know the details. Hanse was always excited to hear about stories, drama or not. And Sejun doesn’t know how to turn down anything that is classified as free food, typical of a university student.

Sejun looks down at his bandage-wrapped hand. Byungchan’s handiwork is surprisingly neat. He spent forever and a day in the small space of his bathroom, gently wrapping the bandaging around Sejun’s palm as if he was afraid of hurting him and the knot is tight enough that Sejun’s reckless movements have yet to undo it all.

He frowns.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I don’t understand why $5,000 doesn’t bother him. He just wrapped my wounds and told me to take better care of myself. And then, he gave me a _different_ camera to finish my project and he kind of kicked me out of his apartment.”

Hanse slowly stirs his lemonade with the straw. The ice jingles in the glass. He hums.

“I knew Byungchan was rich,” he begins to say. He trails off with a faraway look in his eyes. It looks hopeful. It looks as if he were daydreaming about living a life where Byungchan pays for all of his expenses. Quite frankly, Sejun has to agree that the idea of it would be a nice life, but they’re in the middle of a conversation.

Sejun waves his injured hand in front of Hanse’s face.

“You knew he was rich?” he asks.

Hanse blinks at him.

“Doesn’t everyone know that Byungchan is rich?” he asks. He sounds confused. Then, as if it explains everything, Hanse adds, “He carries around a Gucci backpack.”

Sejun hesitates.

“He told me it was fake,” Sejun replies.

Hanse snorts. He rolls his eyes as if saying, _Oh, of course, he would._

“You don’t have an eye for brands, do you?” he says, “That’s a real bag. He just tells people it’s fake because he doesn’t want them trying to befriend him for money.”

Sejun sniffs.

But when he thinks about it, it all makes sense.

Byungchan is a year younger than him and somehow, he can afford to live in a fancy high-rise apartment just a couple minutes away from their university on foot. Byungchan is always happy and willing to take care of the bill when they have dinner with their group of friends. Byungchan is always asking him if he wants to go to dinner with the promise of it being his treat (not that Sejun ever accepts because he can’t justify indulging in his friend’s money like that. He knows Byungchan’s treats are always grand scale and expensive; it’s nothing like Hanse’s offer of raspberry lemonade at the nearby cafe).

It makes sense, Byungchan _had_ to be rich.

“He told me it was fake,” he repeats, looking down at his hands. He suddenly feels a wave of insecurity about their friendship. Sejun frowns, “Does that mean he doesn’t trust that I would be a good friend and not ask him for free things?”

Hanse frowns.

“I don’t know, hyung,” he says, gravely. He gingerly brushes his bangs out of his eyes with delicate fingers and tilts his head, letting the platinum locks fall back into his eyes. Sejun doesn’t have the chance to inquire why he ever bothered. Hanse continues, “You asked to borrow his camera and then broke it…”

 _“Hanse!”_ Sejun clutches his heart, wounded.

“I’m not wrong,” Hanse replies. He huffs, “But I’m just kidding. Everyone knows Byungchan has some kind of soft spot for you. It’s not surprising that he just let you off.”

Sejun makes a distressed sound of dispute.

“What do you mean?!” he exclaims. He rests his elbows on the table, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Byungchan treats me the same as he treats you guys. We’re _all_ his friends.”

Hanse hums. He takes a sip of his lemonade and shrugs. He takes his sweet time savouring the taste of the drink on his tongue before he replies, drawing out Sejun’s patience.

“Yeah, we’re all friends, alright. I don’t know,” he says. Despite his words, though, he sounds like he knows something that Sejun doesn’t know. With the straw still in his mouth, Hanse tilts his head in the other direction, “Does he? I feel like if Chan hyung broke his camera, he wouldn’t be near as accommodating. With you, he just brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal.”

Sejun frowns. He doesn’t understand.

“If he let _me_ off the hook,” Sejun argues, “why wouldn’t he let you guys off?”

Hanse laughs.

“Why? I don’t know,” Hanse replies. He sounds so nonchalant that it should be believable, but it isn’t. It isn’t because there’s a glint in his eyes that tells Sejun that Hanse _definitely_ knows something Sejun doesn’t know. He doesn’t dare to push it, though.

Instead of asking, Sejun stares down at his bandaged hand and thinks about the way Byungchan carefully wrapped his wound.

He takes a sip of his drink and thinks.

_What’s different about him? What’s so different about him?_

* * *

Seungsik, Sejun hopes, has to have a little bit more helpful insight into _why_ Hanse thinks Byungchan treats Sejun differently from all their other friends. Or at least, knowing Seungsik, he would try his best to fit that description. Seungsik is always lovely and helpful.

Seungsik is sitting in a quiet corner behind a mountain of textbooks when Sejun finds him in the library, Byungchan’s camera between his hands.

“Are you here to help me study, Sejun-ah?” Seungsik asks in lieu of a proper greeting.

He barely looks up, feeling Sejun’s presence approaching him before he sees him. Seungsik is smiling as he highlights a line in his textbook. It doesn’t sound like it, but Sejun knows that Seungsik is teasing him.

“No,” Sejun replies. He frowns and fiddles with the camera in his hands. He pulls out the chair in front of Seungsik and flops into the seat. “I’m here to take pictures of you.”

They had a deal. Sejun would help Seungsik with making cue cards for his students if Seungsik promised that he would model for him as a good student. Luckily for Seungsik, that didn’t require much effort at all. Luckily for both of them, for the most part, all Seungsik needed to do was sit in one place and let Sejun take pictures.

At the reminder, though, Seungsik spares him a glance over the top of his open textbook. His eyes quickly flicker down to Sejun’s hands and he takes a moment to register the camera in his hands. He points the end of his pen at it, gesturing to it as he speaks.

“Hm? What’s this?” Seungsik frowns, “I thought you broke Byungchan’s camera?”

Sejun gulps. He looks down into his lap, fiddling awkwardly.

“Um,” he starts, eloquently. He has the decency to feel embarrassed about it. “How does everyone already know about this?”

It has only been a day since the incident.

Seungsik chuckles. “Byungchannie told me.”

“And he didn’t tell you that he lent me his other camera in its place?”

Seungsik laughs at that.

“Hm,” he says, “he conveniently left that part out.” Seungsik’s lips curve up into a smile. He adds, “We got a little distracted talking about other things related to why he isn’t mad at you.”

Sejun sits up straight in the chair.

His eyes widen, “Why isn’t he mad at me? Do you know?”

Seungsik drops his pen and covers his mouth with his hand. He giggles, falling back into his chair. Aware of his presence in the library though, Seungsik makes an effort to keep his giggles quiet.

When he calms, his eyes glitter as he looks at Sejun, endearing in a way that is _so_ Seungsik.

“He was right,” Seungsik says. “You _do_ sound like you want him to be mad at you.”

Sejun huffs. He buries his face into his hands and rests his elbows on the edge of the table.

He feels the embarrassment heat up the tips of his ears.

He says, “No, I don’t _want_ him to be mad at me. I just want to know why he _isn’t_.” He vaguely waves his hands as he speaks as if it emphasizes his point of _not_ wanting Byungchan to be mad at him and just being _very_ confused. “Like, I broke something that belongs to him and is worth a lot of money. I would be mad at me. In fact, I _am_ mad at myself for it.”

“Well,” Seungsik says. He spins his pen between his fingers and simply says, “I’m never mad at Seungwoo for very long.”

Sejun laughs, incredulous.

He looks up at Seungsik with a funny smile on his lips. He points out, a matter of fact, “That’s because you’re in love with him.”

“Right.”

Sejun blinks. _Wait, what?_

But when he makes eye contact with Seungsik, Seungsik simply raises his eyebrow at him. He doesn’t say another word and simply returns to highlighting his textbook.

Sejun is left more confused than he was before sitting down with Seungsik.

Still, he raises Byungchan’s camera and quietly snaps pictures of Seungsik as he works.

* * *

The weird part is that, despite everything Sejun expected from him, Choi Byungchan _doesn’t_ ever bring up their conversation again.

Sejun thinks that, reasonably, Byungchan should bring it up again when everything calms down and Sejun’s palm isn’t bleeding any more. Sejun thinks that Byungchan should be waiting for the appropriate time to bring up the fact that Sejun owes him something equivalent to $5,000.

He doesn’t talk about _what_ he wants Sejun to do to pay him back for the broken camera.

In fact, he doesn’t mention it at all.

And if the dread didn’t live in Sejun’s bones, he would believe that it never happened in the first place.

But it did. And he’s frustrated that he can’t get Byungchan to _say_ what he wants.

It’s frustrating to an excruciating degree because he _almost_ got an answer out of him, but then he had to be stupid and cut his hand. He had to be stupid and do something that provided Byungchan with an easy excuse to change the subject.

And no matter how many times they ran into one another in the hallways at university, Byungchan doesn’t do anything more than inquiring about his wound. He just slows his steps, turns to walk backwards and sweetly asks Sejun if he’s healing well.

_It’s weird._

Maybe Sejun _does_ want to get scolded for breaking Byungchan’s camera.

Maybe all he wants is to hear the younger man express _some_ kind of emotion beyond his obvious concern for Sejun because it _doesn’t make sense_.

At least, that’s how it goes until he finds himself at the door of Byungchan’s apartment with Byungchan’s _other_ camera in his hands, filled with photos of Seungsik and Seungwoo working at a nearby kindergarten.

Sejun anxiously shifts, adjusting the camera bag on his shoulder as he sends Byungchan a text message instead of ringing the doorbell like a normal person.

He feels like it has been a while since they’ve seen one another.

 _It has._ It’s been a while since they had the time to speak.

It might just be a part of Sejun that likes to overthink, but it feels weird that he’s standing in front of Byungchan’s door, a full week after the last time they properly spoke.

Sejun’s hand is properly healed, now. He hasn’t seen Byungchan since the last time the younger man changed his bandages for him in the university bathroom. Seungsik took over the job for Sejun in the following days—he didn’t have a reason to see Byungchan.

Sejun hears the notification sound from Byungchan’s phone on this side of the door.

And Byungchan comes to the door quickly, without replying to the text message. The yellow number next to Sejun’s message doesn’t even vanish.

He pokes his head out of the door and leans against it with a small smile on his lips. His hair is damp and matted to his forehead. Sejun realizes that he was in the shower.

“Hey,” he greets easily.

“Hi,” Sejun replies. He raises his hands, camera between his fingers. He offers Byungchan an awkward smile. “I’m here to return your camera.”

“Ah,” Byungchan says. There’s a playful glint in his eyes and a teasing note of disappointment in his tone. He says, “I thought you were here to see me.”

Sejun gives him a funny look, his smile turning more genuine despite his confusion.

“I mean,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t come here if you weren’t home, right? So, I guess I _am_ here to see you specifically in some sense.”

Byungchan chuckles and shakes his head, “ _Oh_ , hyung.”

Sejun raises his brow.

He doesn’t know what that is supposed to mean.

Before he can ask, though, Byungchan steps back from the door and opens it a little wider for Sejun to step in. He motions for him to come into the apartment.

“You’re not busy doing anything, right?” Byungchan asks. His eyes flicker over Sejun’s figure, stunned by the door and staring at him, “You can stay for some coffee or something?”

Sejun nods.

And then, it clicks.

Byungchan wants him to stay for coffee. Byungchan wants him to have time to talk. Byungchan is about to tell him what he wants in return for breaking his camera. Sejun won’t leave the apartment alive—he insists it’s his only fate despite Byungchan having stressed _multiple_ times that he doesn’t want his life.

Sejun swallows. He steels his nerves.

This is his fate.

This is how he’s going to go.

And, surprisingly, he thinks that the past week has warmed him up to the idea of dying by Byungchan’s hands. He thinks he’s okay with that. At the very least, Byungchan is someone he trusts. Byungchan might be angry with him, but Byungchan wouldn’t make it painful.

Byungchan is a good kid and Sejun can trust in that.

He doesn’t look at Byungchan in time to see the way that the younger man smiles before he steps back to move to the kitchen. He doesn’t see the way Byungchan’s eyes brighten significantly when Sejun steps into his apartment.

“Do you want coffee? Tea?” There’s a note of excitement in Byungchan’s tone. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s not enough to snap Sejun out of his horrified trance.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Sejun replies.

Byungchan leans against the counter in front of his espresso machine. He turns to look at Sejun over his shoulder, his eyes glinting mischievously. He asks, “You want to share?”

Sejun balks.

“A cup?” he asks. Byungchan laughs.

“Yes,” he replies, turning to look at the machine. He presses a few buttons on it and Sejun thinks he’s imagining the tint of red on Byungchan’s ears. “A cup.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Sejun asks.

Byungchan chuckles. He shakes his head in what Sejun thinks is disbelief.

“Now, why wouldn’t I want to do that?”

Sejun blinks.

“Because…” he falters. It comes as a belated realization that he has _no_ idea why he’s under the impression that Byungchan wouldn’t want to share a cup of coffee with him. It’s a little odd and feels almost strangely intimate, but there’s nothing wrong with it. Sejun has seen Byungchan share cups of iced tea with Hanse before. It shouldn’t be weird.

 _It’s me,_ his mind supplies. _It’s not Hanse._

Brilliantly, Sejun voices that thought.

“It’s me,” he says. “Like, we don’t usually do that.”

Byungchan blinks.

Then, his lips curve into an amused smile. He tilts his head and quietly says, “Maybe I want something to change between us?”

Something jolts in Sejun’s chest, something electric. He almost jumps at the feeling.

Sejun’s eyes widened.

 _“What?”_ he asks.

He doesn’t know why he reacts so aggressively.

Byungchan turns around from the espresso machine and leans against the island, facing Sejun. He braces his weight with his elbows against the marble surface. As Byungchan comes closer, Sejun feels panic rise in his chest. It’s different from the terror of facing potential death, though.

Sejun stammers, “What do you mean?”

Byungchan purses his lips. His eyes fix on Sejun’s face, slowly scanning over his features.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “what _do_ I mean?”

It feels like he’s talking to Hanse all over again. It feels like he’s talking to someone who pretends they have no idea what they’re talking about when they _very clearly_ do. It lights a nervous fire in the pit of Sejun’s stomach and he doesn’t know how to react.

“I think you know what you mean,” he says, brilliantly.

Byungchan chuckles at that. Something twinkles in his eyes, unreadable.

He moves his hand, resting his cheek in his palm. His eyes scan Sejun; up and down, silently.

“I do,” he says, “I know exactly what I mean. I just don’t know if I should tell you.”

Sejun frowns. His eyebrows furrow, “What? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I just don’t know if I should,” he replies, “It’s not really that important.”

Sejun’s frown deepens. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s important, then?” he asks, suddenly feeling frustrated. “You won’t tell me what you want me to do to repay you for your camera and now you’re being all ambiguous. At what point does something become important enough for you to tell me?”

Byungchan blinks at him.

He straightens up with a frown on his lips.

“You want to do something about my camera that badly, hyung?” he asks. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t know it bothered you that much.”

Sejun huffs.

“Why _wouldn’t_ it bother me?” he asks, “Your camera is worth so much money and I can’t even buy you a new one. I broke yours and you let me off without asking for anything in return? No one is that nice to anyone unless they’re in love with them or something!”

There’s a silence.

It falls between them heavily like a thick blanket shrouding them.

Byungchan is staring at him, focused. He doesn’t tear his eyes away, flustered like Sejun half-expected from him. He’s thinking and it’s obvious in his eyes. He’s stuck on something Sejun said but Sejun isn’t sure which part of his words caught Byungchan’s attention. He isn’t sure which part of his exclamation had Byungchan looking so serious.

Byungchan’s lips purse.

Byungchan taps his fingers slowly against the surface of the marble counter.

The sound of his fingernails tapping against the hard surface makes something in Sejun swirl uncomfortably. He shifts his weight from the other side of the counter. He swallows, mentally preparing himself for something that he doesn’t even know.

“Can you give me what I want from you, hyung?” he asks. He sounds fragile, almost as if he’s afraid of being shut down. The unreadable glimmer in his eyes looks like insecurity, now. Byungchan’s voice lowers, “You want to give me something I want in return for breaking my camera, but can you give me what I really want?”

Sejun feels hesitant. Sejun wants to answer him but there’s something stuck in the back of his throat and he can’t piece his words together.

He didn’t expect this. He doesn’t even know what _this_ is.

Sejun swallows. “What do you want from me?”

Byungchan’s stares at him.

“You said you would do anything, right?” he asks. Sejun doesn’t know why he feels so nervous when he nods. Byungchan’s eyes flicker down to Sejun’s lips.

Byungchan’s eyes turn serious. He raises his finger to his lips and taps.

“A kiss,” he says. “I want a kiss.”

The world freezes around Sejun.

He feels like he hears the record scratch that sounds in every dramatic movie. He feels like Byungchan is joking. Sejun’s heart stops in his chest.

He doesn’t know how to react.

“What?” _You want what?_

The machine behind them beeps.

Byungchan’s expression immediately softens. He chuckles and turns his body, pushing himself off of the counter and facing the espresso machine again.

“I thought so,” he says.

Sejun babbles uselessly before he manages to say something coherent.

“What? What do you _mean_ you thought so?” he asks. He rounds the counter and stalks over to where Byungchan is standing. He crosses his arms over his chest, “Stop messing with me!”

Byungchan raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head and looks at Sejun, silently.

He frowns. He has the nerve to look confused and Sejun doesn’t know if he can keep his temper in check when Byungchan looks so innocent while he provokes him.

The taller man simply says, “I’m not.”

Sejun’s frown deepens.

_He isn’t?_

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to entertain the thought of kissing Byungchan, but the younger man looks so serious that it feels like he’s joking. Byungchan doesn’t look that serious for anything. It doesn’t feel real. And Sejun doesn’t want to fool himself into thinking that Byungchan would _actually_ accept a kiss as an apology and a repayment.

He realizes, he doesn’t want Byungchan to be joking about this.

He says with a huff of annoyance, “You’re not making any sense, who the hell asks for a kiss to repay that much money? What’s that even worth?”

“Who the hell asks for something like that?” Byungchan asks. Byungchan hesitates for a moment. Then, as quietly as possible, he says, “… Do you know who asks something like that? Someone who likes you.”

Sejun’s heart stops.

For the second time in a matter of moments, Sejun feels everything around him freeze.

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs and he doesn’t know what to do. It feels like Byungchan reached into his throat and pulled out his last breath of air as repayment for having broken his camera. Sejun doesn’t know how he’s supposed to process it.

He falters when he tries to speak.

His voice comes out, barely above a whisper when he tries again.

“You _what?_ ”

Byungchan winces. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I didn’t mean to.”

“No!” Sejun exclaims, “No, don’t apologize! What? You shouldn’t apologize, I’m just—I’m just taken aback, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do?”

Byungchan flashes him a weak smile.

“Well, you’re…” Byungchan scratches the back of his neck, his smile turning awkward, “It would be nice if you let me down easy.”

“No!” Sejun shakes his head. He panics, grabbing onto Byungchan’s arm. “Why would I let you down? I can’t let you down.”

“What are you doing to do, then?” Byungchan asks. He laughs awkwardly and avoids Sejun’s eyes. “It’s okay, hyung. I stepped out of line. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not like you can tell me that you like me too or something.”

Sejun pauses.

Then, he asks, “Why not?”

Byungchan freezes. He turns to look at Sejun with wide eyes. His grip on the edge of the counter is enough to turn his knuckles white. Sejun looks down at Byungchan’s hands, unable to look into his eyes.

“What?” Byungchan murmurs. “What do you mean?”

_What does he mean?_

Sejun isn’t quite sure what he means.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but somehow, it feels like the right thing to do. It feels right to tell Byungchan that he feels _something_ for him. He isn’t sure what it is, but it’s something that told him he _didn’t_ want Byungchan to be joking when he said he would take a kiss as repayment.

He doesn’t know what that feeling is, but he doesn’t think he’s afraid to find out. _Not anymore._

“Maybe I can’t tell you that I like you too. Maybe the truth is that I don’t know what I feel for you,” Sejun mutters, looking down at his hands. “Really, I’m not sure what it is, but if it counts for anything, I didn’t want you to be joking when you said you wanted a kiss.”

Byungchan searches his eyes, seemingly afraid.

“You…” Byungchan falters, unable to continue his sentence. He swallows, “You didn’t want me to be kidding? You wanted me to ask you for a kiss?”

Sejun still can’t meet Byungchan’s eyes.

Somehow, his heart is pounding in his chest and he can’t focus on anything else. It pounds in his ears and he can barely hear Byungchan’s voice over the sound of his heart racing.

“Sejun hyung,” Byungchan calls, his voice almost sounds like it wavers—he sounds so fragile. He reaches out to take Sejun’s wrist into his hand, “You’re not fucking with me, right?”

Sejun shakes his head.

“I don’t know what it is,” he mutters, “but… I think I like you more than I would like a friend. I don’t like you the way I like Hanse.”

Byungchan tugs gently on his wrist, pulling him closer. Sejun stumbles on his feet, falling forward. Byungchan easily catches him against the counter.

From this distance, Sejun can’t avoid his eyes. He looks up and all he sees is Byungchan’s dark eyes, seemingly endless. And as soon as he looks, he can’t look away.

“Come here,” Byungchan murmurs. His hand moves to gently cup Sejun’s cheek. His thumb gently brushes over Sejun’s cheek and his eyes flicker down to his lips. Byungchan is quiet for a moment, his eyes never moving. And then, he asks, “What are you feeling right now?”

_What is he feeling?_

Sejun can hear his heart hammering in his chest.

Sejun can feel his head spinning.

He doesn’t know exactly what he feels, but he knows that Byungchan is _so_ close to him and he can pinpoint that it’s _Byungchan_ that is making him so nervous.

He swallows hard.

“Nervous,” he replies. He feels the urge to close his eyes. Byungchan is so close to him that he feels the need to close his eyes, anticipating something—anticipating a kiss. “I feel nervous.”

“Me too.” _A whisper._

Sejun feels Byungchan’s grip tighten. He feels the way Byungchan holds his breath when he moves a little closer to him. He swallows.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Byungchan says, softly, “You can tell me how you feel about me after.”

And he does.

Byungchan kisses him softly—a gentle press of his lips against Sejun’s, his grip pulling Sejun closer to his body, all before Sejun can close his eyes. He gasps quietly against Byungchan’s lips before his eyes flutter shut. His hands fall to rest on the younger man’s shoulders.

He feels electricity pulsing through him. He doesn’t know how to translate that into words, but his heart wants to pound out of his chest. Sejun feels dizzy.

Byungchan moves away quickly—too quickly.

He peers at Sejun quietly, anticipating. And Sejun takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

_“How—?”_

_“I—?”_

As if suddenly jolting back to reality, Byungchan quickly releases Sejun and steps back, visibly flustered.

“You first,” he murmurs.

Sejun quickly shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down at the floor. He takes a breath.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again,” he says, quietly. He feels impossibly shy and he doesn’t think he can meet Byungchan’s eyes. “I don’t think it answered all of my questions, but I don’t think I would mind that again.”

Byungchan swallows. He reaches out to take Sejun’s fingers between his own.

Then, toying with Sejun’s hand, Byungchan glances at him shyly. This time, Sejun knows he isn’t imagining the flush on Byungchan’s cheeks.

“Do you want to figure it out together?” Byungchan asks. He sounds as shy as he looks. “What you feel for me, I mean?”

“I don’t want to accidentally break your heart, Byungchan,” Sejun admits.

Byungchan shifts his hand and presses the palm of his hand against Sejun’s, raising their hands as he laces his fingers with Sejun’s.

“If anything,” he says, “I asked for it. It won’t be your fault, I promise.”

“You never want to blame anything on me,” Sejun mutters.

“No,” Byungchan chuckles, “I don’t.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You know what would be even more unbelievable?” Byungchan asks, “If you said _‘yes’_.”

Byungchan’s eyes search Sejun’s quietly. His lips curve into a timid smile.

“How’s dinner next Friday? Just you and me?”

Sejun swears he feels his heart skip a beat. He nods his head.

He thinks this might be more than okay.


End file.
